Indelible
by Amaranth Adanae
Summary: Doumeki has paid a high price for a wish.  Will he be able to put together the pieces and rediscover the thing he values most?  [DoumekiWatanuki, Spoilers for manga, past volume 7 or so]
1. Hunger

Indelible

By Amaranth Adanae

Disclaimer: XXXholic is the property of CLAMP. This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment, not for profit.

Originally posted on the doumekiwatanuki LJ Community; many thanks to Dragon's Daughter and the other members of the community for their suggestions and support.

Prologue

"So…the price is my entire memory of Watanuki?" asked Doumeki.

The Witch of Dimensions nodded soberly. Her expression, while not without a certain sympathy, was implacable. Doumeki sighed inwardly. A kidney or a finger would be so much easier. Though his expression didn't change, Yuuko as always seemed to read his thoughts.

"No other price will do," she said. "To gain something of value, you must sacrifice something of equal value. The exact value, perfect and balanced. To gain something you desire so desperately, you must give up something you cherish as greatly. Shall I grant your wish?"

Doumeki didn't hesitate. Life without Watanuki, with only his memories to hold onto, was unthinkable. While Watanuki lived, there was always the opportunity to make new memories, to start over. Practice makes perfect. Their relationship might develop more easily, this time around.

Besides, Doumeki had been afraid he might come to this. He was not without insurance.

"Yes," he said, clearly and firmly. "Please grant my wish."

Chapter One

From the outside, Doumeki Shizuka's life looked perfect. At Tokyo University on scholarship, he coasted through his classes, excelled in both archery and soccer, and was popular with guys and girls alike.

He couldn't say he felt lucky, though. If he had been the kind to express his feelings, he would have said that he had the distinct feeling that something was lacking, that there was a huge, gaping hole in the middle of his life. Some of those girls thought his life would be even more perfect with the addition of the right girlfriend, so he had gone on a few dates. The experiences left him cold. He just wasn't interested.

Doumeki wasn't really interested in much, actually. It had occurred to him that the lack might be in him, rather than in his life. Certainly, some of his dates had thought so. Cold, they said. Indifferent. Unfeeling. What had seemed like cool and becoming reserve from a distance seemed, up close, more like apathy. Didn't he have any human emotions, they had asked?

He considered the matter. He didn't really think that he did. He felt the gnawing sense of incompleteness, of course. And he felt a certain emptiness in his stomach.

Doumeki eyed his lunch, cold soba noodles, with disfavor. He was hungry, he was always hungry, always craving _something_. But it was never what was put in front of him. _Inari sushi_, his mind whispered. _Fugu_. _Flowing somen_.

But no matter what he craved, it never tasted right when he got it. So he gave up. What was the point in ordering expensive food if he never enjoyed it anyway? He had pushed aside the entrées at fancy restaurants, and picked with dissatisfaction at the homemade offerings of his admirers.

Valentines Day was the worst. He always received and abundance of chocolate, with absolutely no enthusiasm. Even the most delicious looking chocolate ganache tasted wrong. The cake was always too dry, or too chewy, and the center was never the right temperature, and either too runny or too thick. He knew exactly what the perfect ganache should taste like…he'd just never encountered it.

Doumeki prodded at the noodles with his chopsticks for a moment, then pushed the bowl away with a sigh. His ennui was always worse when he was at school. At home, on vacations, he felt something that might almost be…anticipation. Or hope. Or something. When he was in Tokyo, his mind dwelled longingly on the thought of home.

_So, maybe whatever I'm looking for isn't here? Maybe it's back there? _

Doumeki turned the idea around in his head, and it felt right. At University, he was just marking time; he was further from his goal, whatever it was, rather than closer.

And any archer knew, anyone with any commonsense knew, that if you were having trouble hitting a target, the best strategy was to move closer to where you thought it was.

First step, then. Go home. It occurred to Doumeki that it felt good to have a plan of action. He pulled the bowl of soba noodles back towards him, and started slurping them down. They still tasted terrible, but he needed the energy.

After all, he had a mission now.


	2. Insurance

Indelible

By Amaranth Adanae

Disclaimer: I do not own xxxHolic.

Chapter 2: Insurance

Doumeki sighed comfortably as he stretched to his full length on his familiar futon. It felt good to be home; the atmosphere of the shrine, traditional and profoundly peaceful, soothed the chronic tension that he hadn't even realized had become a fixture in his neck, shoulders, and back. Tokyo wasn't for him. Sure, it offered a vibrant lifestyle, with a wide variety of entertainments, but the pace was too frenetic, and the lifestyle was too…modern. He found he liked the slower pace of home, the day structured by the chores and duties of the shrine. This, he thought, was where he belonged. The vague notion that he might some day take on his grandfather's role as priest crystallized into solid resolution.

His grandmother had taken his sudden appearance philosophically, and had remarked that she had long since given up being surprised by anything he did. Doumeki was mildly startled; he hadn't remembered that he had done anything particularly unpredictable during his school years. His mind wandered over a boring vista of classes, student council meetings, and archery practices, punctuated periodically by competitions and…outings in the middle of the night to exorcise spirits?

Doumeki blinked, and propped himself up on an elbow as his hand went reflexively up to touch his forehead. He hadn't remembered them, but now that he forced himself to think back, the memories were there—though oddly fragmentary. He had exorcised spirits with his bow for a strange woman with the most ridiculous clothes he'd ever seen. Yuuko. She granted wishes, but that wasn't why….

He grunted and fell back to the futon, brow furrowed in thought. He was pretty sure that there was some reason he had associated with that woman. She had been, his mind supplied, capricious, unpredictable, and usually drunk. He knew there was a reason he had worked for her—but his memory was utterly blank on what it was.

With a sharp huff, he rolled onto his side and firmly cleared his mind. No point dwelling on it. He needed sleep, and tomorrow was another day. There was nothing he could do about Yuuko and his missing memories now. Within a few moments, his heart rate slowed and he was deeply, profoundly asleep.

"About time you got here. I've been waiting for you," remarked his grandfather, exhaling cigarette smoke.

Doumeki shrugged. A few responses occurred to him: "Aren't you dead?", or, "I didn't know you were waiting," but they seemed rather pointless, so he didn't say them. This was probably a dream anyway, so no sense in wasting time.

"Can you tell me what I'm looking for, Grandfather?" he asked.

Haruka looked amused (which was disconcerting, because he appeared the same age as Shizuka himself, and it was like looking in a mirror and seeing an expression he was fairly certain he himself never wore). He took a deep drag on his cigarette, while his grandson waited patiently.

"You don't need me to tell you," said Haruka. "The answer is right in front of your nose. You just have to look for it."

Much as Shizuka respected and loved his grandfather, it was a good thing he was dead and this was a dream. At the moment, he was feeling the strong urge to kill him.

Doumeki came awake with a strong sense of disgruntlement. Rest, apparently, wasn't on the agenda until he had found…whatever the hell he was looking for. His eyes sought the framed photograph of his grandfather, one of the few decorative items in his determinedly clean and minimalist room. His grandfather, bless and damn him, still seemed to be smirking knowingly at him, even in photographic form.

He rose and padded across the floor to pick up the picture. He noted, as he did so, that the back of the photo was straining against the metal brackets at the back, as though the contents were too thick for the frame.

_The answer is right in front of your nose._

Eyes widening, Doumeki scrabbled at the back of the frame, cursing as he tore a fingernail in his haste to remove the back. It came loose after an insistent tug, and as he lifted the heavy cardboard away from the back of the photo, a smaller snapshot which had been sandwiched between the two came loose and fluttered to the floor.

Doumeki snatched it up swiftly, pausing only to carefully place his grandfather's picture on a shelf, with a mental apology for his earlier curse. Switching on a light, he examined the small photo. In it, he himself hovered behind a slighter companion, whom he watched with amused affection. Doumeki's eyes were riveted to the smaller figure, who was glancing over his shoulder with a look of surprise, as if the photographer had caught him off guard. He had fine, pale skin and large, almost catlike eyes behind silver-framed spectacles. There was something…odd…about the eyes; it took Doumeki a moment to realize that they didn't match. One was a beautiful deep blue, the other a golden amber, almost like his own. Very like his own, actually. The smaller boy seemed to radiate nervous energy, even in the fixed format of the photograph—even his black hair looked as though it had too much vibrancy to lie flat.

Both boys wore the winter uniforms of Cross Academy; and it was clear from photo Doumeki's demeanor that the other boy was neither a stranger nor a slight acquaintance.

Which was odd. Because he couldn't, for the life of him, recall the other boy. That wasn't a face he would forget. If he had seen him, even once, he would have pursued the acquaintance. Ruthlessly. In fact, he had every intention of pursuing him now.

He had, he supposed, seen more beautiful faces, but that hardly seemed to matter, because everything about the other boy was just _right._ Doumeki had never seen such an expressive, sensitive face; his entire body, caught in the motion of whirling to face the photographer, possessed a bizarre sort of nervous, clumsy grace. His whole person exuded the energy and enthusiasm that Doumeki had always felt that he himself lacked.

His reaction to this revelation was, "Of course. What else would I have been looking for?" If he could just find the smaller boy, he was confident that he would finally find the thing that would make him complete. The question of course, was where to start looking.

With shaking, clumsy fingers, he turned over the snapshot, hoping for a clue. There, written on the back in his own hand, was a single short sentence.

_Ask Himawari._


	3. Himawari

Indelible

By Amaranth Adanae

Disclaimer: I do not own xxxHolic; this work is for entertainment, not profit.

Chapter 3: Himawari

This was the place. Doumeki glanced down at the address on the scrap of paper in his hand, and then up at the nameplate on the gate, before tucking the paper into his sleeve. His finger hesitated over the doorbell for a fraction of a second before pushing firmly.

It had been relatively simple to find Kunogi Himawari, in the end. He had spent a restless night, alternately studying the photograph and plotting his course of action while waiting with unfamiliar impatience for the morning. Anxious as he was, though, he had realized that there was nothing to be done until dawn—polite and unfailingly cheerful as he remembered Kunogi-san being, he doubted she would relish being awoken at 3am by someone she hadn't seen in nearly a year, and with whom she had never been particularly close. He had wondered, briefly, why the note directed him to ask Kunogi-san rather than giving him the name and address of the boy himself; he supposed that there had been reasons.

Doumeki had wandered into the kitchen with the snapshot still clutched in his hand. His grandmother had studied the photo with interest, and then remarked brightly:

"Ah, what a good photograph of Watanuki-kun! Are you planning to go and see him?"

It had never occurred to him that his mystery boy might be familiar to his grandmother, but it ought to have. He briefly considered confiding in her and asking for her help—he was, by nature, straight-forward, and it would have made things much easier. He regretfully discarded the idea, though; his grandmother would insist on dragging him to a neurologist to make sure that there wasn't actually anything wrong with his brain, and she didn't need the worry. She wasn't a young woman.

At least he had a name now. _Watanuki_. It was an amusingly silly name; he wondered if it was actually written like April 1st. It suited his mystery boy.

"I was worried that you had a falling out," his grandmother said. "You haven't seen him or mentioned him in so long, but it really isn't any of my business. Sometimes people just grow apart, and you had so much on your mind with university. But, it will be good for you to see him. You always did enjoy his company, and the poor boy does need his friends. Such a burden…"

Doumeki's ears perked up. Still clucking, his grandmother puttered off to pour boiling water into the teapot. He tried to think of a subtle way to prompt her without giving away that he didn't know what 'burden' she was talking about. Fortunately, she continued on her own.

"A sad history, and a sad family. I never thought I'd meet anyone who saw spirits more clearly than your grandfather, but that poor boy…and so polite, in spite of having lost his parents so young. Really, a very sweet boy…"

Doumeki grunted in response, glad for once that his face didn't express much. Behind his stoic façade, his mind was reeling. _Saw spirits_. He mentally filed away_ that _interesting detail.

After listening a while longer to be sure that there was no more interesting information forthcoming about poor, sweet, orphaned Watanuki-kun, Doumeki excused himself and placed a call to the high school. A helpful secretary in office regretted that they didn't have a current address or phone number for Watanuki Kimihiro, but gave him Kunogi Himawari's contact information. He carefully penciled Watanuki Kimihiro on the back of his precious photograph, and scribbled Kunogi-san's information on a scrap of paper. After thanking the nice secretary for her assistance and hanging up, he briefly contemplated giving Kunogi-san a phone call. Instinct suggested, however, that he would get more information if he showed up in person without giving her any chance to escape.

The door of the Kunogi residence swung open, and Kunogi Himawari herself stood there, looking paler and more careworn than he remembered, but with her indomitable smile still in place. She didn't, he noticed, look particularly surprised to see him, though she did look as though she was bracing for an unpleasant interview.

"Ah, Doumeki-kun! It's been a long while, hasn't it? Are you home on a break?" she asked cheerfully.

Doumeki held the photograph up in front of her face and demanded, "Where is he?"

Himawari looked at the picture and wilted slightly. Wordlessly, she slipped her feet into shoes and stepped outside, closing the door behind her. Gesturing for Doumeki to follow her, she started down the road, heading for a nearby park. She settled into a swing, and waited. Doumeki sank into the next swing, his eyes never leaving her face, and repeated, "Where is he?"

"I can't tell you," she said, holding up her hand when he made to interrupt. "I'm sorry, but I promised him. He asked me, should you ever show up, that I not tell you how to find him. He said he didn't think you would ever come, but I knew you would. Doumeki-kun and Watanuki-kun are such good friends, after all."

"So I swore. I didn't want to, but he insisted. He was my very first friend, you see, the only one who knew and didn't turn away," she continued, a little desperately. "I couldn't _not_ promise, not when it mattered so much to him. Not that there is actually much I can tell you," she said thoughtfully, "I see him now and again, but only when he stops by to see me. I don't know where he is living; his old phone number has been disconnected."

"He always seems to know when I need company," she remarked wistfully. "I couldn't really go to college. My grades were good enough, but…well, can you imagine what might happen to my roommate? My hall mates? I can't take a job, for the same reason. He's the only friend I have left, my only contact with the outside world, sometimes. All I can do in return is keep my promise."

She bowed her head, and Doumeki felt a wave of pity for her, battling with the longing to grab her and shake her until he rattled the information he needed out of her.

Suddenly, she raised her head and said brightly, "Did you know, Doumeki-kun, that there is a street festival this evening? I love night festivals, the games, the vendors, and the food. There will even be fireworks!"

"If I were Doumeki-kun, I would definitely go to the festival," she said, pausing significantly. "You can meet such interesting people, after all, at a festival."


	4. Night Fair

Indelible

By Amaranth Adanae

Disclaimer: xxxHolic is not mine; this is a fanwork intended for fun, not profit.

Chapter 4: Night Fair

The street was alive with brilliant color, with light, with cheerful noise, and with wonderful smells. Excited children wearing masks and clutching treats, bags of goldfish, and toys darted among more sedate couples and clusters of young girls dressed in bright kimono. Doumeki paced among the revelers of the festival, restraining a feeling that he recognized, with faint surprise, as impatience. Patience was generally Doumeki's greatest virtue; it was what allowed him to excel at archery, always waiting until his shot was perfectly aligned, never permitting himself to hurry and fire prematurely. He took the time to do things correctly, the first time through. He had the patience to observe things carefully, to weigh the evidence, before coming to any decision. He was never hasty. Haste led to mistakes.

So, Doumeki forced himself to go slowly, to observe each individual around him for a long moment before allowing his intent gaze to move on. He munched thoughtfully on skewered _dango_ that he had bought from one of the vendors, trying not to be too conspicuous. He didn't want to startle his quarry. This was too important to screw up because he was impatient.

He wasn't sure what to make of Kunogi-san's revelations. On one hand, he was relieved to have a solid lead on finding the elusive Watanuki. There had been an unacknowledged dread at the back of his mind that he might have blocked his own memories of the boy in order to avoid the pain of a traumatic loss; it has been a weight off his shoulders to know that he was alive. It did not reassure him, however, that Watanuki seemed to be assiduously avoiding him. Had they, perhaps, had a fight? Was Watanuki angry at him? But then again, the fact that he had made Kunogi-san promise not to tell Doumeki, specifically, where to find him meant that he remembered Doumeki, at least, even if he didn't want to see him.

Doumeki sighed and pushed the tangled thoughts away. It didn't matter if Watanuki didn't want to see him, _he_ wanted to see Watanuki. At the very least, he had to solve the mystery. It felt…unhealthy…to have a chunk of his memory missing. And besides, both his grandmother and Kunogi seemed to think that Watanuki needed him. Doumeki chose to believe that they knew better than Watanuki himself.

He had, moreover, a growing conviction that Watanuki was involved in something dangerous. After he had left Kunogi-san, he had spent the remainder of the day tracking down high school acquaintances, to see if any of them either knew where Watanuki was currently living or could add more to his sparse collection of knowledge.

Strangely, most didn't even recognize the name. A description sometimes evoked a faint memory. One boy who had been on the archery team had vaguely remembered him as "your bespectacled friend with epilepsy." A girl from his senior homeroom had said, "Oh, yes, the noisy boy with glasses," (before shyly asking him to go to a movie with her). A third had asked if that wasn't the kid with the good bento? But most didn't remember him at all. And that was odd. You'd think people would remember a boy who was "noisy" and who, apparently, had periodic fits. Doumeki rather doubted that those episodes were epilepsy.

An orphaned boy whom no one remembered, who just happened to have immense spiritual powers…to Doumeki, that read _easy target_. Doumeki hated the idea that the boy was so vulnerable. It increased his determination to find Watanuki. He would protect the boy, even if no one else did. Something powerful enough to erase his own memories of someone who was clearly dear to him so completely, which could affect the minds of so many…

He finished up the last of the _dango_ and, tossing the skewer in the trash, prowled the street with redoubled concentration. His attention was caught by a rambunctious cluster of small boys who were shouting and running. One of them, careening along, tripped and stumbled into a slim figure standing in the shadow of a stall. Doumeki's breath caught, as the person bent slightly to catch and right the boy, admonishing him and pushing him towards his friends. Doumeki was too far away to catch the words, but he caught the tone, and was charmed.

The boys ran off, but Doumeki had no attention to spare for them; he was transfixed by the slender figure in blue. He could have sworn he wasn't there a moment ago, and this wasn't the sort of person he would have overlooked. His clothes, for one thing, were more elaborate than those of most of the fair goers, exotic almost bordering on the bizarre—layers and layers of fine silk robes. A thin yukata of pale blue lined in white covered a black garment with a high mandarin collar and a row of elaborately woven Chinese-style frogs down the front. Over top of it all was a still more elaborate robe of deeper blue, decorated from hem to waist and from cuff to elbow with sinuous patterns in grey and white, with the barest shimmer of silver—smoke, Doumeki thought. It was belted with woven silver cords. Strangest of all, he wore a mask like many of the children did, a fox mask. It was white, with a pattern of curving marks across the forehead. A collar of tawny fur draped across his chest and around his neck.

Though he couldn't see his face, Doumeki was sure this was Watanuki Kimihiro. Something about the set of his head, the line of his shoulders and neck, and the aura of restless energy. Besides, who else was peculiar enough to come to a festival dressed like _that_? Well, besides Yuuko.

The collar chose that moment to come alive, swarming around the young man's neck. Like a fur covered cobra, one end rose up from the boys shoulder, and Doumeki could have sworn tiny little ears pricked towards him, and tiny, beady black eyes regarded him with interest. The fuzzy little snake seemed to be pulling in his direction.

For a moment, the masked face gazed after the children, then, as though he felt Doumeki's gaze, looked across at him. Doumeki had a moment of sharp disorientation, and his vision split. Out of one eye, he continued to see the masked figure in blue. From the other…

_A tall, dark boy gazed at him with intensity, his face almost expressionless except for a slight widening of the eyes and a raising of fine brows. In his deep red yukata, he looked like a splash of blood among the butterfly swarm of pastels around him. Still staring, the boy took a single step towards him…_

Doumeki gasped. That was _him_. What the hell??????

The boy in blue took advantage of his surprise; while Doumeki gaped in shock, he disappeared into the deeper shadows in a rapid swirl of blue, black, and silver. Doumeki had to hand it to him; for someone burdened with all those layers of robes, he moved _fast_. By the time he gathered his wits enough to follow, the outrageous blue robe was nowhere to be seen.

Doumeki systematically searched all of the surrounding streets, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn't find anything. He didn't see so much as the tip of a single fox ear. Watanuki had vanished like, well, like smoke.

Wearily, Doumeki turned his footsteps towards the shrine. He tried not to be discouraged. After all, he had seen Watanuki. That had to be Watanuki—no one else would have run. And Watanuki was apparently unharmed and on his own recognizance—though Doumeki was starting to get the distinct impression that wasn't a good state of affairs. The dratted boy needed a keeper, and Doumeki was determined that he was going to get one. Traipsing around a street festival dressed like_ that_, and running from the one person who meant him the least harm. Idiot.

As he trudged along, Doumeki's mind was busy with plans. He needed to track down Yuuko's shop. He'd been there in the past, he knew. The shop was near the school, and nearer still to the shrine. That narrowed down the area. He hadn't always been able to enter the shop, true, but this time he certainly had a wish. And Yuuko, he thought, would probably be happy to aid his pursuit of Watanuki, if only because the witch loved to cause trouble.

The gate of his shrine loomed ahead of him. Sighing, he looked around the yard as he headed for his house. He needed to sweep the courtyard again tomorrow. He had meant to do it today, but had been…sidetracked. As he mounted the steps, he became aware of a dark figure lurking in the shadow of a pillar.

There, on his own front porch, still dressed in his outrageous festival clothes, stood Watanuki Kimihiro.


	5. Reunion

Indelible

By Amaranth Adanae

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, for entertainment not profit. I do not own xxxHolic; it belongs to CLAMP.

Chapter 5: Reunion

Watanuki leaned back against a post, his arms crossed in front of him and his long legs crossed at the ankles. His mask, fortunately, was gone. His eyes, closed as Doumeki climbed the steps, opened as the taller boy stopped before him.

"Watanuki…" said Doumeki. Even to his own ears, it sounded stolid, neither breathlessly passionate or expressing the reverence that might be appropriate for so important occasion. Watanuki snorted.

"Contrary bastard. It figures—back when you were supposed to know my name, you never used it. Now that you are supposed to have forgotten it, NOW you decide to use it. I knew it was too good to last. I KNEW you would show back up. Next you're going to be demanding some impossible, out of season dishes. Well, you are _out_ of luck. The kitchen is CLOSED. No more orders. Your personal caterer has gone out of business…" Watanuki started out calmly enough, but he seemed to build up steam, getting louder and gesticulating more wildly as he went along, kind of like a wagon rolling down a hill.

Doumeki blinked. He wasn't sure quite what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't…whatever the hell this was. He hoped his grandmother was either asleep, or familiar enough with Watanuki not to worry. There didn't seem to be any actual heat behind the rant; he suspected Watanuki enjoyed grumbling. It was funny, really—Watanuki's face, in repose, looked like it was intended to be gentle. His rage distorted it in the most amusing ways, like a kitten puffed up to twice its size, trying to intimidate. Doumeki considered Watanuki's aspect. It was kind of cute, he thought. Definately amusing.

The diatribe seemed to be winding down. The good thing, thought Doumeki, was that Watanuki didn't seem to be at a loss for words, even in an awkward situation like this. They weren't pleasant words, true, but they filled the silence. Loudly. He stuck his fingers in his ears so he could think. Ah, that was better. Words always failed Doumeki. They were unreliable. That was why he didn't talk much. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what had to be expressed, but there didn't seem any words important enough, profound enough to say it.

He noticed that Watanuki had finally fallen silent. He was glaring at Doumeki with a mixture of disbelief and outrage. Doumeki removed his fingers from his ears, slowly, ready to plug them again at the least sign that Watanuki was ready for another round. Watanuki snorted again. Doumeki wondered if he had allergies.

"You really are an unbelievable jerk." Watanuki remarked. He suddently turned his back on Doumeki, gazing off into the darkness. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped, becoming soft, almost hard to hear. "You shouldn't have come back. Shouldn't have been looking for me. You were better off not knowing. I'm as bad luck as Himawari-chan, in my own way."

"I missed you," said Doumeki simply. "I didn't know that it was you I was missing, but I knew that there was something."

"Yeah, there's something missing," hissed Watanuki. "Half the vision in your right eye, several pints of your blood, some of your grandfather's charms. If you stay around me, there's likely to be a lot more missing. An arm, a leg, a kidney…your heart, your soul. Your future."

"It was a relief, you know, when Yuuko told me the price. You had always done so much, trying to protect me, to save me. You gave too much. I was always thinking, 'what next'? It made me sick to think about it—sometimes I was convinced that you were going to use yourself up, 'til there was nothing left, in some noble quest to keep me in once piece. When you gave up your memories for me, I though that, finally, you would be safe. You could go and have a normal life."

"What about you?" asked Doumeki. "Are you going to a university?"

Watanuki smiled a little, a sad, slightly bitter twist of his lips. "No, I gave up any dreams of 'normal' a good while ago. It got worse, you know. The more deeply involved in the supernatural I got, the more…things…were drawn to me. More, and more dangerous. It wouldn't be fair, really—can you imagine the things I could call down upon a college dormitory? The havoc the spirits would wreak in an office?" He shook his head. "I used to dream of a normal life, a family…but even if Yuuko someday grants my wish, and takes away my ability to see spirits, I can't ever risk having children. Can you imagine passing a curse like this on to a defenseless child? So, what's the point? Besides, I'm going to be working off my debt to Yuuko for the rest of my unnatural life—houseboy, cook, gofer, spirit bait, and flunky."

"Are you…have you been, okay?" asked Doumeki. "You work for Yuuko? Do you exorcise spirits?"

"Ah, sorry. I forgot you wouldn't know," said Watanuki. "I can't exorcise spirits, I can only see them. And attract them," he muttered under his breath. "Mostly, I do housework in her shop. Well, I did. She's been away, so I'm actually running the shop alone right now. I can grant some wishes, minor ones."

Doumeki looked concerned, "how long has she been gone? When will she be back?"

"Who knows?" Watanuki threw up his hands and wailed. "She's been gone six months, no warning. Just: "look after the girls for me" and "mind the shop." I expected her back within a day or two, but it's been months. Who knows when she'll come back: when her job is done, when the sake runs out, when the natives form a mob and start brandishing torches? I've gotten by. I'm safe in the shop, and I never go out without Mugetsu."

The little tawny furry snake-thing poked its nose out from Watanuki's black collar, and eyed Doumeki. Doumeki tentatively reached a hand out, and petted the top of its head with the tip of his index finger. The little thing rubbed against the finger, and then coiled itself briefly around Doumeki's wrist before retreating back under Watanuki's robes.

"What is it?" asked Doumeki, with a certain awe.

"Pipe fox. Combination pet and guardian spirit. His name is Mugetsu."

Doumeki was impressed. His grandfather had told him all about _kudakitsune_, fox spirits with immense spiritual powers. He could even remember, in a very foggy sort of way, that he had met this one, maybe. But still, it wasn't every day that you came into contact with something straight out of a myth. Well, maybe it was everyday for Watanuki.

He didn't, however, like the sound of "_attract them_". Or the sound of "_gone for six months_." Or the idea of Watanuki on his own with only the _kudakitsune_ and those funny little girls, who he was pretty sure couldn't leave Yuuko's shop at all. There was really quite a lot about this situation that he didn't like. He particularly didn't like the notion that Watanuki, who could barely take care of himself, was trying to make decisions about _his_ life.

So, first things first. He had to make the most important thing clear to Watanuki. He could work out the details later.

"I don't want a normal life. I'll stay here and look out for you."

Watanuki's response could only be termed a screech. Loud and shrill, it made Doumeki want to put his fingers back in his ears (but he was pretty sure that would make Watanuki even more angry, and therefore louder).

"Don't you get it? _I _want that for you. Bad enough I'm stuck in the middle of this. It made me happy to know that at least you were out of it. That you could go wherever you wanted, be whatever you wanted to be, without worrying about me. That you had options. That you had _freedom_. And now you want to throw all that away to babysit me? For God's sake, Doumeki, for my sake, go away. Stay away. And be happy."

Watanuki was backing away even as he spoke. Doumeki, finally realizing his intent, reached out, but he was too late. Watanuki had backed into the deeper shadows at the edge of the porch and disappeared. He had done the 'vanishing like smoke' trick again. Apparently, Yuuko had taught him a few things. Doumeki looked across the yard, but there was nothing there but a few dead leaves, trembling faintly in a restless current of air.

Damn. He hadn't even left a glass slipper.

Authors Notes: Thanks to everyone for such nice reviews! There is one more chapter--it's written, I just have to proof it. It will be up in a few days. The kitsune mask in the last chapter, by the way, is straight from the manga--a splash art page in volume 3. --A.A.


	6. The Shop that Wasn't There

Indelible

By Amaranth Adanae

Disclaimer: This is a fanwork; xxxHolic belongs to CLAMP. I am making no profit.

Chapter 6: The Shop That Wasn't There

Doumeki stood before the gate in the tall wooden fence and looked down the path at the Dimension Witch's shop. He had been half afraid that he wouldn't be able to see it, that he would be facing an empty, weed filled lot, but the eccentric house stood there, complete with its innumerable gables and crescent moon weather vanes. Hard to believe, really, that such a whimsical, foolishly charming looking place could be so dangerous, so deadly.

Frightening to think that, for better or worse, it held his future.

He started up the path, and was unsurprised when the front door opened. The soulless girls, who had begun their routine of singsong chanting and dancing, fell silent as soon as they saw him. They stood aside as he entered, flanking the door silently, and watched him with wide, solemn eyes as he toed off his shoes and stepped up into the shop. As he started towards the green and gold doors adorned with a red crescent moon directly before him, they scurried around him and, beckoning, slid open a side door. Nodding his thanks, Doumeki stepped inside.

His gaze was drawn immediately to the figure slumped over the table. Watanuki, clearly limned by the sunlight flooding through the tall bay window, brooded over a half-empty tea cup. He had traded his elaborate festival gear for a simpler robe of midnight blue so dark it was almost black, subtly embellished around the sleeves and collar, in a blue just a shade lighter, with a sinuous design of dragons. The outfit clearly suited Watanuki's mood; he looked subdued, as though some of his brilliant energy had been extinguished.

It was the impression of a fleeting moment; Watanuki looked up as soon as he entered with a polite, reserved smile in place—his professional face, clearly. The impassive mask gave way almost immediately. As soon as he caught sight of Doumeki, Watanuki's eyes widened, and his mouth gaped. Doumeki was glad; he hadn't cared for the bland, impassive face. It didn't suit Watanuki at all. Even the kitsune mask from the fair was more honest. That, after all, had obviously been a mask.

Watanuki leapt to his feet, gibbering, his arms windmilling wildly. "Aaiiieeee!!! What the _hell_ do you think you are doing here? Weren't you listening at all? Why do I bother talking, when you never listen? And how did you get in, anyway? Only _customers_ are allowed to enter the shop. So go away, you great oaf! Stupid dolt! Shoo! _Shoo_!" He made mad pushing motions at Doumeki, shoving him towards the doorway.

Sighing, Doumeki plugged his ears and dug his feet in, using his superior height and weight to resist Watanuki's frantic efforts to push him towards the door.

"Oi, moron. Quit. I have a wish."

The simple statement goaded Watanuki to even more exhaustive demonstrations of his exasperation.

"A wish? A wish? Are you insane? Do you know the price of wishes here? Do you remember what happens to most of the customers? Do you want to end up in the hospital, or as a monkey's paw? Or maybe you want to live the rest of your life as a shut in?" Doumeki tuned him out, and let him continue to rant. It probably did him good to get it out of his system. Maybe eventually he would wind down and they could move on to business.

Even Watanuki had to run out of breath, in the end. The bespectacled boy dropped heavily into his chair; Doumeki settled into the chair across the table from him. Despite his distracted state, Watanuki automatically pushed a plate of snacks towards him. Doumeki examined the snacks with interest, helping himself to a cup of tea before popping a tea cake filled with red bean paste into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully. Delicious.

Across the table, Watanuki eyed him morosely. His elbows rested on the table, and his forehead was propped against his palms, fingers buried in his hair, causing it to stand up in agitated tufts. He watched without comment as Doumeki moved on to sample the _mochi_, savoring each mouthful of the flavored sweetened rice paste. Finally, as if he couldn't stand the silence anymore, Watanuki spoke.

"Be very careful what you say, here. If you make a wish, I have to grant it if it is in my power. You can't take it back." He glanced at Doumeki, and then looked away. "I can give you back your memories, if that's what you want."

Doumeki looked up sharply, studying Watanuki carefully. "Wouldn't that undo the earlier wish?"

"Yes," replied Watanuki. "The price would be that the earlier wish would be undone. But I can do it. And I will, if that's what you wish."

Doumeki moved his head sharply in a savage negative movement. "No."

Watanuki regarded him quizzically. "What is it that you want, then? Not, mind you, that I am encouraging you to make a wish. Most people who do end up regretting it. If they live long enough."

Doumeki continued to chew thoughtfully, and took a sip of tea, his eyes on Watanuki all the while. "So," he asked meditatively, "If a wish is in your power to grant, you have to grant it?"

"Yes."

"Regardless of whether you, personally, think that it is a good wish?"

"Yes," replied Watanuki with annoyance. "If it is in my power to grant the wish, I have to grant it, as long as the customer is able to meet the equal price. I can advise them against it, but once the wish is made, I am obliged to fulfill it."

"Ah. Okay, then. I want you."

"WHAT???!!!!" As expected, Watanuki exploded. His face went pink, then red, then a deep purple. His eyes bugged, his jaw dropped, and his hands waved in the air. It was one of the most amusing things Doumeki had ever seen.

"I want you. As a friend, at least. More than that, though, I think."

"Why?" asked Watanuki in disbelief. "You don't even remember me!"

Doumeki shrugged slightly. It was just one of those things that _WAS_. There wasn't any point in analyzing it, or trying to explain it. The sun rose. The sky was blue. He needed Watanuki. Memories, or lack thereof, didn't enter into it. He didn't have the words to express it.

Watanuki, however, was looking with an expression that was somewhere between bemusement and wariness. Doumeki suspected that the magnitude of his wish hadn't really sunk in yet—if Watanuki had realized all the ways that Doumeki wanted him, he would be spazzing into next week. He supposed he owed it to the other boy to try.

"When I was young, my grandfather would spend hours teaching me about spirits and supernatural things. I lived for those stories. Even though I couldn't see those things myself, they were more interesting and more real than anything in the world that I could see. After he died, I felt like part of me had been amputated."

"When I see you, it's like that, but more so. You give me back the parts that have been missing. The last few days have been more interesting that anything I can remember in years. I want to live in your world, and see things through your eyes. I don't want to go back to being dead."

Watanuki had risen, and gone very still. His eyes suddenly looked very catlike, heavy lidded with elongated pupils. Doumeki felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up. This, he thought, was the wish granter, the apprentice of the Witch of Dimensions. He stood quickly, and scooted around the table. One hand reached to encircle one of Watanuki's thin wrists, the other reached up to cup one side of Watanuki's jaw, tilting his head up so that he could look into his eyes. He had, for an eerie moment, been afraid that Watanuki was about to vanish again; the boy was reassuringly solid under his hands. He could even feel the pulse beating in Watanuki's wrist.

"Ah, so," said Watanuki, a strange little smile playing over his lips. "That is a wish I can grant, but the price may be high."

"What is the price?" whispered Doumeki.

"Your very soul, and all the rest of the days of your life."

"That seems fair enough," said Doumeki, one corner of his mouth curving in a faint smile.

"Then may your wish…be granted," whispered Watanuki against his lips, just before Doumeki pressed against him in a kiss.

**Epilogue**:

Watanuki drew back from Doumeki with a start as the shrill ring of a telephone shattered the stillness of the shop. He darted across the room, and lifted the receiver before the phone had a chance to ring a second time.

"Moshi, moshi," he said, as he put the receiver to his ear. He listened for a moment, and responded to the caller with an, "Ah, hai," and listed for a few more seconds before going bright red and removing the receiver from his ear before turning to glare at it. He returned the receiver to his ear, and began to stutter at the mouthpiece, only to stop short when all he heard was the dial tone. Apparently, the caller had hung up.

"That," said Watanuki, pointing an accusing finger at the phone, "was Yuuko. She is coming home this evening."

"Ah," replied Doumeki.

"She suggested taking the rest of the day off, and said that I didn't have to be here to meet her when she gets back, if I have 'other plans.'"

"Good," said Doumeki, slipping his arms around Watanuki's narrow waist.

"She also said," continued Watanuki on an aggrieved note, "to be sure to leave dishes for dinner in the kitchen. And plenty of sake."

"Be sure to prepare enough for us, too," said Doumeki.

"I am NOT a vending machine. Nor, I will remind you, am I a caterer. Or even a worker at a fast food restaurant…" Doumeki interrupted before Watanuki could hit his stride.

"What did she say that made you blush like that?" he asked curiously.

"She said to have fun," snarled Watanuki, still slightly pink.

Doumeki smiled. "I intend to."

**END**

**Authors Notes:** Happy Fourth of July! A holiday present for everyone who has been kind enough to read. Doumeki's wish, for those who are curious: Watanuki was seriously ill, possibly dying, suffering from some form of "Author is too Lazy to Come Up with an Authentic Sounding Injury or Illness"--not quite as life threatening as falling out the window or, obviously, Doumeki couldn't pay the price, but something that Yuuko could offer a fix for, in exchange for their 'relationship'. Doumeki, of course, pays the price. However, having known Yuuko for a good long while now, and possibly familiar with the price she had charged Sayoran in TRC, stashed the photo with note as his 'insurance.' Thus setting into motion his 'treasure' hunt, and the ensuing plague of cliffhangers. Thanks for reading! --A.A.


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